With a Little Luck
by anotherredhead
Summary: After returning from a long trail ride, Matt's plans for an intimate reunion with his Valentine hit a few frustrating snags.
1. Chapter 1

Standard disclaimers apply. Consider this my early Valentine to all the Matt/Kitty lovers out there. Contains suggestive language and adult situations.

With a Little Luck

Chapter 1 

**Wednesday, February 12**

Matt Dillon was quite pleased with himself. He was bone tired and saddle sore, but riding back into town this cold and sunny afternoon, it looked like his record would remain intact. It had been just over two weeks since he had left Dodge City to track a gang of outlaws, and at the time he had no way of knowing how long he would be gone. But after accomplishing his mission and delivering the surviving prisoner to Hays, he was safely home with two days to spare—enough time to recover from an exhausting trip so he could devote his full attention to the day and the woman he cherished.

The demands of his job frequently caused him to miss holidays, birthdays, anniversaries, and social events, and there had been more than a couple of arguments over that fact. But by some miracle, he had not missed a single Valentine's Day in seven years with Kitty Russell. Matt was not a superstitious man, but he figured this had to be some kind of omen. They were destined to be lovers.

He dismounted Buck and stretched his long, stiff legs. It felt like he had been gone much longer than fifteen days. He grabbed his saddle bag and gear and headed toward the office to let Chester know he was back. Chester could tend to Buck while he tended to more pressing matters.

Business at The Long Branch Saloon was typical for a weekday afternoon. A couple of men drank shots at the bar while a table of semi-rowdy cowboys worked on a round of beers. Kitty was chatting with Sam, her good friend and trusted employee, when the weary Marshal made his entrance.

He stopped just inside the doors and looked toward the bar. Blue eyes met bluer ones, and they could hardly contain their excitement. They did, of course, since doing otherwise was not an option with customers present.

He was still in the same ripe clothes he had worn on the trail. Taking a warm bath and a long nap were high on his list of priorities after the trip, but not as high as the beautiful redhead in the sapphire dress.

Matt walked over to the bar and tipped his hat. "Hello, Kitty," he said politely as a few customers showed mild interest in his presence. He looked like a vagabond and smelled like a horse, and she couldn't have been more attracted to him.

"Hi Matt," she returned, with a subtly flirtatious smile. "I didn't know you were back."

"Just got in few minutes ago," he replied. "I rode old Buck pretty hard to make it in today."

"Remind me to give that horse a treat," she said, with a barely perceptible wink.

For the past week, Kitty had wondered if this would be the year that broke their winning streak. He had been called away so suddenly, and the only consistent aspect of his job was its unpredictability. There was no telling how long he could be on the trail of those outlaws. She knew that disappointment would be a small price to pay as long as he returned safely to her, no matter what day it was. But oh, how she had hoped he would make it home in time. Valentine's Day had been a welcome constant in their uncertain world—a holiday for sweethearts that they had managed to celebrate together, without exception, every year of their now seasoned romance. And alas, it appeared that Cupid was ready to smile on them once again.

Matt enjoyed a beer on the house before heading off for that much needed bath and nap. He asked Miss Kitty if she might accompany him to dinner later that evening, and she accepted. Two friends making plans to have a meal together, to anyone listening in the saloon.

As Matt left The Long Branch, Kitty's mind was already wandering past dinner and onto post-dinner activities. He had to be tired and sore after that ride, she thought, and maybe they should wait until their special day to do anything too strenuous. Perhaps build the anticipation—now that would be different, and it sounded rather exciting. It would be a Valentine's Day to remember, for sure.

Kitty quickly came back to earth and rolled her eyes. There was fantasy, and then there was reality. It had been over two weeks, and that hadn't happened since…well, the _last_ time he had been on the trail for over two weeks. And as she recalled, he had practically tackled her at the first opportunity after getting back that time. He may have just gotten out of a long haul in the saddle, but Matt Dillon was going to be ready for another ride tonight. And admittedly, so was she.

Then there was the matter of his gift. Should she wait or unveil it tonight? It seemed so perfectly suited to a man seeing his woman after a long absence. Besides, there was still a slight chance something would happen to keep them apart on the actual day. Yes, she decided with a smile, she would give it to him tonight.

**GSGSGSGSGSGSGSGS**

Matt rested his neck on the back of the tub. The warm water felt even better than he had imagined, and his aching muscles almost sighed in appreciation.

So much had happened, and he needed to tell her about it. As strong and stoic as any man, the burdens of being a lawman sometimes overwhelmed even Matt Dillon. Though he hated to worry her, she knew him too well and he couldn't hide his feelings from her. He had learned early in their relationship that he didn't have to. A man in his line of work was lucky to find a trusted confidante, a faithful friend, or a true lover. He had managed to find all three, and her name was Kitty Russell.

Matt smiled as he thought about the box that was still safely tucked in his saddle bag. The only bright spot in a fortnight of tribulation had been buying that gift for her in Hays. He was tempted to give it to her tonight but willed himself to wait two more days. They would have dinner at the fanciest restaurant in town, take a walk back to her place under the moonlight, and enjoy an intimate night by candlelight in her room. Was his gift really as perfect as it seemed? He could hardly wait to find out.

But first there was tonight. After two weeks of beans over a campfire and the cold, hard ground, his reward would be a tender steak and a night of passion in the warm bed of the woman he loved. Matt took a deep breath and closed his eyes, almost able to taste the steak and feel her body against him. It was sensory heaven, until a sudden noise jolted him out of paradise.

"Mister Dillon? Mister Dillon? Are you in there?" The knock was quick and urgent.

Matt immediately recognized his assistant's unmistakable voice. He had no idea why Chester was there, but he already knew one thing for sure—there wasn't a snowball's chance in hell that he was going to finish this bath.

"Just a minute, Chester," he said none too eagerly. He stepped out of the tub, quickly drying off and throwing on the fresh clothes he had laid out before opening the door. "What is it?" he asked.

"I sure hate to bother you, Mister Dillon," Chester began, "but old Grady Fisher's got hisself into a heap of trouble over at The Lady Gay. I think you'd better come.

Matt didn't ask what kind of trouble. He just grabbed his gun belt and badge and headed to The Lady Gay.

Grady Fisher had made the innocent mistake of talking to the wrong man's girl. The wrong man turned out to be a stranger in town with a bottle of whiskey and an explosive temper. It was a dangerous combination. The girl later claimed she barely knew him, but that hadn't stopped him from attacking poor Grady after he offered to buy her a drink. Matt had been able to break up the fight fairly quickly despite the crazed man's determination to keep it going. It often came in handy to be more than a half foot taller than most men in town.

Chester took Grady up to Doc's to get checked out while Matt hauled the resistant offender off to jail. Maybe after he sobered up he would be more cooperative. He'd had his fill of uncooperative prisoners for one week. Matt decided he would send a wire tomorrow to see if the man was wanted for any other crimes.

He looked at the clock and pondered his options. He had to fit that nap in, even if it meant pushing dinner off until later. He definitely wanted to give tonight his best shot, so to speak.

**GSGSGSGSGSGSGSGS**

The late dinner crowd at Delmonico's was sparse. As they worked on their steaks and wine, Matt and Kitty chatted about all the town news Matt had missed while he was away. It was nothing too exciting, but it was still news. He filled her in on the stranger in jail who had caused their date to be delayed. How they had missed talking about the little things.

It wasn't easy, but Matt finally brought up his two weeks on the trail. He had been involved in a harrowing gunfight with four gang members and had killed three of them. The remaining outlaw had given himself up but had tried to escape during the ride to Hays. Kitty shuddered at the image of a four-against-one gunfight, grateful that she hadn't known about it at the time. But she wanted to know about it now—she would not let him relive that experience alone.

He finished his story and they looked at each other silently. "I'm so glad you're home," she said in a soft voice, putting her hand on his.

"Me too," he replied. "I missed you, Kitty."

Under the conveniently long tablecloth, she reached out her foot and started gently sliding it up and down his leg. He felt a little flutter of excitement rush through his body. _How does she do that?_ Seven years later, through a lace up boot, her touch still made him feel like a teenager.

Matt leaned in a little closer. "Are you ready to get out of here?" he asked quietly. Kitty smiled—she was indeed. Matt began to look around for their waiter when something caught his eye just outside the restaurant.

"Oh no," he said, a sense of dread in his voice.

"What?" Kitty asked, turning her head toward the front window. Chester Goode was peeking inside, scanning the room. He saw them and quickly hobbled into the restaurant.

"Mister Dillon!" he called excitedly, rushing over to their table. He took his hat off apologetically. "I sure am sorry to interrupt your dinner, Miss Kitty, but this is important."

"What is it, Chester?" Matt asked, already sure he didn't want to know.

"He gone, Mister Dillon!" Chester fretted.

"Who's gone?" Matt asked.

"The prisoner that beat up old Grady. He escaped from jail!" Chester exclaimed.

"How in the world did that happen?" Matt asked. "Weren't you there with him?"

"Oh yes Sir," Chester said nervously. "He…well, uh, he yelled for me and I seen him all bent over holdin' his stomach, and he said he was real sick and I had to help him. So I went in there…"

"You went _in_ there?" Matt interrupted. "Chester, you don't just walk into a jail cell with a prisoner, you know that!"

"I do, Mister Dillon," he said meekly. "I don't know what happened, I guess I just panicked. I thought he was dyin' or somethin'. And then when I got close to him, he elbowed me right in the face and ran off." Chester's swollen nose backed up his story. Not that Matt doubted it—Chester was as honest as the day was long.

"Well, are you all right?" Kitty asked, noticing his injury.

"Oh, I'm fine," he replied sheepishly. "I just feel bad about it's all."

Matt grimaced as he saw his plans evolving from a hot night on top of a goddess to a cold night on top of a horse.

"Well, he might not be _that_ dangerous," Matt said weakly, gazing longingly at his dinner partner.

"Oh Matt!" she scolded. "Go find him."

Matt glared at Chester as he stood up from the table. "Which way did he go?" he sighed.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

With a Little Luck

Chapter 2

**Thursday, February 13**

Sam Noonan folded his apron and laid it behind the bar. "Goodnight, Miss Kitty," he said as he headed toward the door.

"Goodnight, Sam," she returned warmly. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Kitty peeked over the batwing doors and briefly scanned the street. She was expecting company, but she didn't see him just yet. She pulled the outside doors shut to indicate they were closed for business and plopped down in a chair. It had been a long night and her feet were tired.

She could hardly wait to see him. He had stopped by earlier in the evening during rounds, but that didn't really count. She couldn't hold him then, or smell his scent, or feel his rugged face nuzzling hers. She'd had to settle for a heart melting smile and a thinly veiled promise to come back and "check on things" later.

Of course, she had also seen him last night. But not nearly as much of him as she had planned. At least it had only taken him a couple of hours to find his prisoner, who was now safely back in jail. She hoped.

They would make up for it tonight. Kitty smiled as she thought about the holiday delight in her drawer upstairs, still waiting to be initiated. She tingled with anticipation. Perhaps their little interruption, annoying as it was, would make the coming activities that much more satisfying. She was in a silver lining kind of mood right now.

Three short knocks interrupted her happy little daydream—it was his knock. She jumped up and eagerly opened the door, finding one very tall lawman wearing a fresh set of clothes and that same heart melting smile. He was clearly as ready for the occasion as she was.

"I'm sorry, we're closed," she teased in a sultry voice that she knew drove him wild.

Matt struggled to keep a straight face. "I understand that, Miss, but I'm afraid we have an emergency situation here. I'm going to need you to open up and do something of utmost importance."

"Do what?" she asked innocently.

"The Marshal," he replied seriously.

She couldn't stifle her laughter, playfully grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him into the saloon. She had barely gotten the doors closed again before he grabbed her from behind and twirled her around, catching her as she fell into his embrace.

He lightly pressed his lips to hers, working his way from short, shallow kisses to a final deep, lingering one.

"I have a surprise for you upstairs," she whispered when they came up for air.

"Mmm, I like the sound of that," he said, placing another light kiss on her neck before effortlessly lifting her into his arms and carrying her up to the bedroom.

He laid her on the bed before quickly unhooking his gun belt and kicking off his boots. Gently crawling on top of her, he straddled her with his long legs, supporting his considerable weight on his elbows. Making love to someone half your size was a delicate dance, one he had perfected from years of practice with Kitty Russell.

He kissed her again, and again, until the constriction on his growing excitement became too distracting to continue. To hell with foreplay, he thought, it's been over two weeks. He took her hand and guided it to his belt, which she unbuckled with one quick, expertly executed tug. As her fingers worked their way down, he slid a hand under her back and began fumbling blindly with the buttons. So many buttons, which stubbornly clung inside the small loops of her dress.

"Having problems, Cowboy?" she asked amusingly.

"You could say that," he replied dryly.

She sat up and turned around, allowing him to continue working as he mumbled something about women's clothing. After finally releasing the last button, she hopped out of bed and walked over to the dresser.

"Where are you going?" he asked impatiently.

"I told you, I have a present for you," she replied. "I know it's not Valentine's Day yet, but I didn't think you would mind getting it early."

"I don't mind as long as I get it soon," he replied with a raised eyebrow.

She opened the top drawer and quickly pulled out a small item before hurrying to the washroom. "I'll be right back," she promised.

Matt sighed. Knowing Kitty, this was going to be worth the wait. But getting there was beginning to feel like torture. He decided that he should be equally prepared when she returned, and the rest of his clothes went the way of his boots. He lay expectantly under the covers when he heard the washroom door open.

The vision that greeted him left him temporarily speechless. She had let her hair down, and it cascaded around her shoulders and past her bust line, which was clearly designed to be the main attraction in this cornucopia of red satin and black lace. It hugged her shapely form, barely covering her hips. He was looking at his own personal, succulent Valentine treat, ready to be opened and savored.

"Do you like it?" she asked, full well knowing the answer.

"I love it," he managed to croak. He reached for her hand and pulled her onto the bed with him. "And I love _you_," he whispered, gently pushing one of the lace straps off her shoulder and placing a soft kiss where it had been.

Kitty arched her back as he worked his way down, gingerly unwrapping his gift until it was fully exposed. She fell back on the bed and he was on top of her once again.

Suddenly, she pushed him back and shot upright. "What was that?" she asked frantically.

"What?" he replied, confused and slightly annoyed.

"Shh!" she ordered. "I hear something."

They sat motionless, listening silently. There was a faint noise coming from downstairs. Kitty crept out of bed, grabbing the scant nighty to hold in front of her body as she cracked the door open and stuck her head out in the hallway.

The noise grew louder. Someone was knocking on the outside door, over and over. "Mister Dillon! Mister Dillon!"

Kitty closed the door and turned to her lover, one hand on her hip and the other still holding the sliver of material barely covering her front. "It's Chester," she said gloomily. "You'd better go see what he wants."

Matt angrily kicked the sheet off the bed, looking as though he was trying to kill it. He jerked his underwear off the floor and began to hastily redress himself.

"So help me, Kitty," he said through gritted teeth, "unless this is the rapture, or the entire town is on fire, I'm going to shoot him."

"Oh, Matt" she chided, trying to sound disapproving. Truthfully, she had the same urge.

Matt grabbed his gun belt and made his way down the stairs. Had it been almost anyone but Chester, he wouldn't have so visibly opened a locked door from the inside of Kitty Russell's saloon well after closing. But given the obvious fact that Chester knew exactly where to find him at this hour, there was no sense in playing games.

He flung open the door and glared at his assistant. "What is it, Chester?"

"Oh, thank goodness I found you, Mister Dillon," Chester exclaimed. He started to go on but was temporarily distracted by his boss's appearance. His hair was disheveled, his shirt was hanging out and unevenly buttoned, and he had red smudges on his face.

"I, uh…" Chester tried to continue, but he was too flustered. He didn't know what he had expected, but somehow it wasn't this. He knew that Miss Kitty was the Marshal's woman alright, but that fact had never smacked him in the face quite like this before.

"You have two seconds to tell me why you're here, and it had better be good" Matt warned.

"Yes Sir, Mister Dillon, it is," Chester promised. "Mr. Pritchard's waitin' for you at the jail. There's been a robbery!"

John Pritchard was temporarily filling in at the bank while his brother Randall recovered from a carriage accident. John Pritchard was more the farmer type than the banker type like his brother, but it was only for a couple of weeks and there was no one else to do it on such short notice.

Matt reluctantly agreed that a bank robbery was good enough reason to drag him away from his evening's pleasure. "OK, let's go," he said, cursing this unknown criminal under his breath as he headed out the door.

"Um. Mister Dillon?" Chester said uncomfortably.

"What?" Matt replied.

"You might wanna…well, tidy up a bit before we go back to the jail." He nodded toward Matt's shirt. Matt looked down, seeing the crooked buttons on the loose shirt and realizing that the rest of him probably didn't look much more professional. Well this is embarrassing, he thought to himself.

"Right," he said, trying to sound casual. "You go on ahead, I'll be there in a minute." He went back inside to look for a mirror.

**GSGSGSGSGSGSGSGS**

Marshal Dillon arrived at the jail looking sufficiently businesslike. John Pritchard was pacing back and forth as Chester looked on nervously. Pritchard had a well-earned reputation as an ill-tempered curmudgeon, and he could be quite intimidating.

"Tell me what happened, Mr. Pritchard," Matt began. "How much did they get? Did you see anything?" He wasn't quite sure how the man even knew the bank had been broken into at that hour.

"Of course I didn't see anything," he snapped. "I was asleep like decent people ought to be that time of night before the ruckus woke me up."

"What ruckus?" Matt asked, confused. Mr. Pritchard didn't live close enough to the bank that he would have heard anything going on there.

"My dogs," he replied nastily. "They were barking up a storm, and they only do that when somebody trespasses on my property. So I grabbed my shotgun and went outside, and sure enough, my pig was gone. That's a prize winning pig, Marshal!"

"Your pig?" Matt asked incredulously.

"I know who did it too," he continued. "It was that no good neighbor of mine. He's been threatening to get even with me ever since he accused my dogs of killing his chickens. Which they did NOT."

Matt was well aware of his recent feud with his equally ornery neighbor, Dub Greer. Between the two of them, they had made sure the whole town knew about it.

Matt shot a look at Chester, who was fumbling with a stack of papers and pretending not to hear the conversation. He took a deep breath before summing up the situation.

"So you're telling me that you came here this time of night to report a missing pig," he said in an eerily calm voice, one Chester knew all too well—it was his "I have to force myself not to hurt you" voice.

"A _stolen_ pig!" Pritchard corrected. "You remember how that old coot tried to have me arrested when he found those scrawny chickens of his dead. Hell, they probably killed themselves so they wouldn't have to look at him anymore. I guarantee you, Marshal, if you go to his place right now you'll find my pig. Do it! He's a thief!"

"I'm not waking anyone up at this hour over a pig. I'll check into it tomorrow," Matt replied firmly.

"Well, I wish I could tell people when I felt like doing my job," he huffed. "I thought you got paid to enforce the law."

"I said I would check into it tomorrow. Go home, Mr. Pritchard. NOW," Matt demanded.

John Pritchard slapped his hat on his head and stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind him. Silence hung in the air until Chester decided he'd better say something.

"Well, ain't that funny," he chuckled awkwardly. "I could've swore when he came in here and said he'd been robbed that he was talkin' about the bank."

"Hilarious," Matt replied without a hint of a smile. "I can't stop laughing."

Chester quickly slipped out of the room to change into his night clothes. Matt sat down and rubbed his temples. What should he do now? Go back to Kitty's? She was probably still up. She might even be gift wrapped again.

He closed his eyes and replayed her seductive sashay from the washroom in his head. God, that was sexy. He imagined her climbing into bed with him, mentally picking up where they had left off. He could smell her, taste her, as she writhed beneath him, her creamy skin soaking up his kisses as she breathlessly called to him,… "Mister Dillon!"

Matt's eyes flew open, startled by his fractured fantasy. _What the hell?_ he muttered to himself. He had a ravishing lady in red waiting for him a few hundred feet away, and what did he see when he closed his eyes? A gimpy assistant yelling his name.

It was too late, the mood was ruined. They could try again, but it wouldn't be good. The woman he loved deserved consuming, passionate, Be-My-Valentine sex, and all he could offer at the moment was angry, I'd-better-not-see-his-face-here-again sex.

Tomorrow, he thought. Tomorrow is Valentine's Day, and I'm going to make it up to her. Right after I find that pig…

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

With a Little Luck

Chapter 3

**Friday, February 14**

Kitty snuck inside the livery where the horses were saddled, dressed in her riding clothes. She handed Matt a drawstring pouch and he quickly tied it onto his saddle bag before helping her up.

Matt peeked out the door before mounting Buck. "Is it safe?" she asked. "All clear," he replied happily.

It was an unseasonable 54 degrees in Dodge City. With light coats and big plans, they headed out of the stable and toward their date with destiny. Chester, meanwhile, had a date with Doc.

"What did you tell him?" Kitty asked out of curiosity.

"That I had important business to take care of and would be gone all afternoon," he replied, satisfied that he had been truthful. "I gave Doc some money to take him to lunch at noon sharp. I figured there was no way he would pass up a free lunch."

"He means well," Kitty said, laughing.

"Oh, I know," Matt acknowledged. "And I love him like a brother. But right now, I'm going to enjoy being an only child."

The old log cabin in Spearville had been vacant for years. Matt had discovered it once when he was caught in a snowstorm looking for shelter. It was empty except for a bare cot and a table with no chairs. But it had a single feature that was very attractive, whether one needed protection from the elements or a place for an uninterruptible rendezvous—a working fireplace. On a clear day like this, they could be there in an hour.

Or, as they discovered, even less than an hour with fresh horses and eager riders. They stopped in front of the cabin and Matt untied the pouch, then unbuckled his saddle bag and the thickest blanket he owned.

Kitty walked into the abandoned building and took a quick look around at the dust covered floors and cobwebs. "You spoil me, Marshal Dillon," she teased.

"Only the best for my girl," he replied, kicking a pile of dirt away before unrolling the blanket in front of the fireplace. He set a bottle of wine that was wrapped in the blanket off to the side.

Kitty opened the pouch and pulled out two shot glasses, carefully wrapped in a sea of red satin and black lace. They weren't quite as romantic as her good crystal, but they were sturdy and had made the bumpy journey intact.

"So when do I get to see you in that again?" Matt asked expectantly.

"Not until it's warm enough in here to be practically naked," she insisted. Kitty was pretty sure he got that fire going in record time.

They cuddled up together on the blanket, basking in the glow of the blaze and listening to the crackling wood as warmth filled the tiny room. They popped open the wine and filled their shot glasses.

"To us," Matt toasted, clinking his little glass with hers. "Against all odds we've done it again, Miss Russell. Seven years in a row."

"I guess it's going to take a lot more than a jail break and a missing pig to ruin our holiday," she proclaimed proudly.

"A _stolen_ pig," he reminded her dramatically. Matt had finally earned his salary that morning when he rode out to Dub Greer's place and rescued the kidnapped swine. He had warned Greer and Pritchard that they'd better call it even, and he just might arrest them both if something like this happened again.

Kitty laughed. "Happy Valentine's Day, Matt," she said as they took a drink of wine.

"Happy Valentine's Day," he replied, reaching for the saddle bag lying just beyond the blanket.

He pulled out a small box and placed it in her hand. "You know, I hear seven is a lucky number," he said. "And right now, I'm pretty much the luckiest man on earth."

It was a familiar box. Over the years, Matt had bought her gifts from the same jeweler every time he went to Hays. She had a lovely cameo and two pairs of earrings that had come in that same little box.

There was something else that came in a box that size. The ruby was heart shaped, with tiny diamond chips around it. He had guessed at her finger size and had come impressively close. It was the Valentine's Day special at Mr. Alden's jewelry store, and Matt couldn't think of anything he wanted to give her more.

Marriage was out of the question as long as he was a U.S. Marshal. Even a public relationship was forbidden, so for seven years they had expressed their love behind closed doors. It was a sacrifice she was willing to make, the enormity of which he fully appreciated. She could have balked at his rules and would have been justified in doing so—it was not a life many women could accept. But somehow she had, and after seven years he had almost stopped worrying that she might change her mind.

Kitty owned many rings, at least one to match every dress in her wardrobe. She smiled as she opened the box to find one unlike any of the others—one that matched a part of her only her lover could see. He took her left hand and fumbled with the small topaz stone she had on her ring finger. "Do you mind if we move this?" he asked.

She didn't mind. She moved the ring that matched her riding outfit to the other hand, and he slid the heart shaped ruby in its place. It wasn't a wedding ring, but it was no less symbolic. It meant that she belonged to him, on Valentine's Day and every other day. She could wear it openly as if it were any ring, a constant reminder of who they were when the town wasn't watching. It was as perfect a gift as she had ever received.

Kitty leaned in and gave him a tender kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck. "I love it," she whispered.

Matt returned her embrace, putting his arms around her waist and pulling her close to him. The hard floor was only partially cushioned beneath them, and their surroundings were stark and drab—a far cry from a brass bed or a fancy restaurant. Yet this was their best Valentine's Day yet.

Matt spotted the little pile of red on the corner of the blanket behind her. "It feels pretty warm in here to me," he hinted. "Do I get my present now?"

Kitty leaned back on her palms and crossed her legs, giving him a look that clearly answered that question. He eyed her white button down shirt and brown riding skirt hooked snugly in the front. It was absolutely stunning on her, but it had to go.

He scooted next to her and propped himself up on one elbow, conveniently leaving a free hand for exploring. He reached over and casually gripped the top button of her shirt between his thumb and forefinger, playfully twisting it before easily popping it through the hole. Loose, widely spaced, readily accessible buttons—things were finally starting to go Matt's way.

Kitty glanced down at the newly exposed area around her chest with a raised eyebrow and amused smile. "That was pretty impressive, Cowboy. Got any more sexy tricks up your sleeve?"

Matt pondered that for a moment. "It's been seventeen days, Honey. I think you're lucky I'm not already finished!"

Kitty laughed out loud, slowly sliding her arms back until she was lying flat. "You're about to be the lucky one, Marshal," she promised, reaching for the delicate mound of red satin and black lace.

The End

_With a little luck, we can help it out  
We can make this whole damn thing work out.  
With a little love, we can lay it down.  
Can't you feel the town exploding?  
There is no end to what we can do together.  
There is no end, there is no end.  
The willow turns his back on inclement weather;  
And if he can do it, we can do it, just me and you._

_-Paul McCartney & Wings_


End file.
